


pull me closer

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake doesn't date because of his fear of feelings, and it's totally unrelated to his break up five years ago. At least that's what he tells people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull me closer

_I_   _know it breaks your heart_  
_Moved to the city in a broke down car_  
_And four years, no calls_  
_Now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar_  
_And I can't stop_

—————

Ok, so he will admit, maybe he could be a dick sometimes. Sometimes, he might take small discussions and turn them into raging arguments. (Which should be considered a talent if you ask him.) But it's not like he's the only one to blame, Clarke did most of the yelling.

"Apologize."

Bellamy looks up into Octavia's face, and scowls. "No."

She plucks the assignment he was trying to finish out of his hands.

"Hey—!"

"Bellamy, that wasn't just an argument, that was a full fledged fight. I know you and Clarke have some weird foreplay shit—"

  
His scowl deepens. "Excuse you, we do not."

  
"—but seriously, last night was ridiculous." She crosses her arms and gives him a mom look, which is somewhat terrifying giving he's the older sibling and all. He should be the only one able to pull off parental faces that well.

  
"Why should I apologize first? It's not like I was the only one arguing."

  
Octavia throws her hands up in exasperation. "Oh my god, can you stop fighting me and just do the right thing?"

  
He sinks into the couch a little. "Fine. I'll talk to her after—"

  
"Right. Now."

  
He rubs his face, then puts his hands up in surrender. "Ok! Fine! God, who taught you to be so pushy?"

It's not that he minds apologizing, he knows as a functioning human that when you make mistakes you have to accept the consequences and _blah_ , but he didn't like thinking about the possibility that he had actually hurt Clarke.  
Telling someone that their life is only the way it is because of their privileged parents, it's not exactly the nice thing to say. And yes, she told him he was full of himself and all his work would be for naught because of it, but you know, water under the bridge and all.

It's not her fault that he's been too pussy to admit that he has a very small, basically minuscule, crush on her. And the only way he knew how to deal with crushes was to make sure everyone thought he had no interest in her.

It was fine, really.

So he drives to her dorm and knocks on the door, fidgeting a little while before she opens it.  
Except that she doesn't open it.

"She's busy." The dude says, he has shaggy hair and kind of chubby cheeks. Bellamy almost immediately rights him off as a douche.

And it's not because the dude probably slept with Clarke, it's because of, his hair. His hair is douchy. Yeah.

"Can I hear that from her, then?" Bellamy tries really hard not growl, he does, but this guy just seems so slimy.

"Uh—"

"Bellamy?"

He whirls around to see Clarke coming out of the common room.

"Hey." He says, helpless really.

She looks pretty with her hair in a messy bun, wisps framing her face.

"Clarke. Can we talk? Alone."

Clarke glance between the two, and sighs. "Finn—"

"It's fine. I'll come back later, you guys talk." Bellamy says, already retreating. He doesn't want to be here to hear them rip each other's clothes off, the mere thought of it makes him sick.

Clarke looks as if she's about to chase after him, though. "Bell—"

"He said it's fine, Clarke." Finn grits out, clearly exasperated by their antics. Bellamy nods again and darts out the door before any more complaints arise.

\---

"You're such a chicken." Miller says over the phone, his best friend is so helpful.

"What was I supposed to do? Clearly they're fucking, by how protective douche looked." Bellamy drums his fingers on the table, he ordered a coffee but drinking it would only succeed in making him more jumpy.

"Don't you know his name?"

"Doesn't mean I have to use it." He grumbles.

Miller laughs. "I can't believe you're jealous of this guy."

"I am not!" He protests.

"Oh yeah? Then why do you want to bash his teeth in."

"For completely unrelated reasons."

Miller snorts. "I totally believe you."

Bellamy is about to defend himself when he notices a pair of flip flops stop in front of him, he looks up into Clarke's eyes and stares, like an idiot.

"Dude. Hello? Hello!" Miller begins shouting in his ear and he winces.

"I gotta go." Bellamy tries to hit end call, but he ends up hitting the speaker button.

So when Miller screams, "Use protection!" the few people scattered around the coffee shop look at Bellamy in disgust.

"Thanks." He deadpans into the phone, and angrily hangs up.

"Sorry about that." He turns back to Clarke and says she can sit if she wants. She does.

"Who was that?" She asks.

"A dead man. No one important."

"Are you sure you should have told me that? Now you have a witness."

He considers. "I haven't actually done it yet. So I'm still in the clear."

She steals a bite of his scone and smirks. "Good. I'd hate to testify against you or something."

He tilts his head. "No you wouldn't. You'd probably delight in putting me away forever." He's just teasing, but he also idly wonders if it's true. Pathetic, he knows.

Her face softens. "Bellamy, I don't hate you."

"Actions speak louder than words, princess." He takes a sip of his coffee, mostly to keep his hands from fidgeting.

When she speaks, her voice is quiet and she's not looking at him. "I didn't think you minded arguing, I always had fun honestly."

"Really?"

She meets his eyes with a half smile. "Yeah. It's nice to have someone not agree with me on everything."

He laughs. "You just like proving that you're right."

She waves her hand, dismissive, and says, "Details, details." but she's smiling.

He smiles too. "Do you want something to drink?" He asks, already getting up.

"No, no. I have to get back." She stands and wipes her hands on her jeans.

"To go then." He says, and orders a tall black coffee with three sugars, just the way she likes it.

He asks her what she's working on when they walk outside.

"History paper." She says.

"Oh yeah? Would you mind if I read it?" He says without thinking, he's a TA for a history class at his college, it's become a habit to read other people's papers.

She gives him a confused look before shrugging. "Sure. If you like reading train wrecks."

He does, of course.

Her paper is good, surprising because she was insistent that he was going to barf just reading the thesis. But it's good, could use some critiquing, but he enjoys it.

"C minus, at least." He says and hands it back, smirking.

"You're an asshole." She says, snatching the paper out of his hands.

"You invited me in."

"No I didn't. You invited yourself."

He bumps his shoulder against hers. "You mentioned that you had a history paper so I would invite myself over." He's joking, obviously, but then she looks at him in a way that makes him think he's actually right. Which is just ridiculous, but he can't help thinking it, especially when she slides her computer off her lap and moves closer to him on the bed.

"So what if I did?"

He swallows, almost gulping. "I, uh, I wouldn't be against it."

She smiles, hand slipping under his shirt and roaming.

"Clarke," he basically groans. "What about Finn?"

She snaps her eyes to his and glares. "Finn is a fucking douche bag."

His brow furrows. "But I thought—"

"He's trying to win me back, unsuccessfully." She noses his jaw.

"Back? As in you were together before?" He tilts his head to give her more access to his neck, because he's helpful.

"He cheated on me."

He immediately pushes her back and stares, because, what the _fuck_. "And you haven't murdered him? Why does he still have his balls attached?" Most guys would probably stop talking when a girl wants to kiss them, but not him. His brain just goes on overdrive, because, _he's an idiot_.

"I'm a good person." She pushes him back onto the bed and climbs on top of him. He's about to say that even a good person should get revenge with a machete, when she takes off her top.

That shuts him up.

"We're talking about this later." He promises, hands on her hips.

"I don't doubt it." She leans down and kisses his neck.

"Was this your plan? To lure me in here with history homework and then seduce me?" He says, even though he is totally ok with it.

She hums. "I was planning to seduce you with my amazing writing skills, but breasts work too."

"That's for sure." He murmurs, then palms them through her bra.

"We should probably close the door, huh?" She laughs, moving off of him. But he catches her wrist and pulls her back, nuzzling her neck.

"Maybe I want everyone to hear."

She laughs, carding her fingers through his hair. "Kinky."

"One of the things you love about me." He says, then freezes, because he just basically assumed that she loves him, out loud, and now it's going to be awkward and— _fuck_ he's an idiot.

But she just smiles, and pulls him up for an impossibly loving kiss. He's breathless when they break away. "Yeah, you're right."

The grin that stretches across his face almost hurts.

 ---

With Clarke skipping a grade and him missing a couple years to look after Octavia, they end up graduating together. Octavia insists his shitty tie matches Clarke's stunning dress, which he pretends to grumble about.  
Octavia also insists on taking a crap load of photos before they leave, which he actually grumbles about.

"I'm going blind here." He says.

"Like you weren't already before." Octavia snipes back, taking another photo because she's a brat.

"Is that an old joke?"

"Damn, your hearing too? You poor guy." She pats his chest, and he snarls.

\---

They spend the summer together, and Octavia only catches them doing the deed once, which they consider an accomplishment.  
She considers it a set back on her life, and well, not everyone can properly handle seeing their brothers genitals he guesses.

They're watching Spirit, (because Clarke insists that it is a phenomenon that doesn't get enough credit, and he's not going to argue), when she tells him about med-school.

"You said you weren't going." He deliberately doesn't look at her.

"I thought I wasn't, but my mom—"

"Since when do you listen to her?" He knows he shouldn't be angry, knows she doesn't owe him, but he can't help it. He breaks away from her and begins to pace.

She stands too. "Bellamy—"

"When were you planning to tell me? When you left? Were you going to leave it until the last possible second so I couldn't be angry?" He hopes she can't tell what he's doing, pushing her away before she has a chance to leave herself.

Clearly his abandonment issues are showing.

"I don't know, Bellamy! I didn't think it was going to be such a big deal! I wasn't planning on breaking up—"

His laugh is humorless. "Really? You were just going to leave for four years and expect me to wait for you? Did you know that ninety four percent of long distance relationships don't work out? What the fuck, Clarke."

She looks hurt, but it turns to anger in an instant. "Why are you being like this? Why can't you just be happy for me?" She yells.

"Because this isn't what you want!" He shouts back.

"How would you—!"

"Because I know you, Clarke!" He takes a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. "And I know that because you're so scared of your mother that you're willing to throw away your dreams just to be in her good graces."

Her gaze hardens. "Fuck you." She snarls, then grabs her purse and walks out the door, slamming it behind her.

He doesn't see her again for five years.

 ---

"The rules are simple, drink when you've done something, don't when you haven't." Miller says, rummaging through the cabinet for a bottle of liquor.

He and Monty just moved in together and he has yet to understand Monty's organizing skills. Bellamy gently pushes him out of the way and pulls out the bottle first try.

Miller glares. "He organizes by colour, not by alphabetization. It doesn't make any sense!"

Bellamy punches his arm. "You love it."

Miller's glare deepens. "Shut up."

Once a week, they have a game night with their group of friends. Octavia and her boyfriend Lincoln, Monty, Bryan, Jasper and his girlfriend Maya.

No one ever _wins_ , of course, because they are all sore losers and usually end up shouting at each other in a drunken rage. It's fun.

Tonight they're playing never have I ever, and he's only slightly petrified.

"Ok, never have I ever, smoked a joint." Jasper says. Everyone takes a drink except Lincoln and Bellamy.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Never have I ever, hooked up in public."

Miller, Monty and Bellamy take a drink.

Octavia makes a face. "Ew."

"Bar bathrooms have locks, it was still private." He reasons.

She looks at him as if he has two heads. "Do you know how many _germs_ —?"

Miller cuts her off. "Never have I ever had a good break up." and then he and Bryan clink cups and drink.

"Real juicy, Miller." Bellamy jokes.

"Dude," Bryan says, "it's totally something to brag about."

"Yeah, you guys are the poster boys for good break ups, no need to rub it in." Octavia snipes.

"Anyway," Lincoln interjects, being the peace maker of the group. "Never have I ever had my heart broken."

Bellamy guffaws without thinking, and downs his cup. He looks up to everyone staring at him.

"Bitter?" Jasper asks.

He smirks. "Always. Later losers, I've gotta get to work." He jumps up from the floor and grabs his jacket.

"Get to Gina, you mean." Says Miller.

"Whatever. Don't let anyone die." He closes the door, cutting off Millers response.

He likes Gina, he does, but he doesn't know if she's his type. He's almost thirty, and it's probably time for him to think about settling down, as scary as that is. He's so fucking _old_ , jesus.

He works at the bar on weekends and is a college history professor during the week, Gina is also a bartender. He doesn't need two jobs, but he likes them, one where he can pretend to be old and stuffy and one where he can flirt with pretty people. He gets laid pretty regularly too, which is a huge plus. All his friends say he should try dating, but why would he do that when he can get all of the pleasure and none of the feelings? The answer is obvious.

"Table three is drunk as hell, cut them off, table two is just having ginger ale out of respect for the preggo friend, don't serve them anything, and—" Gina cuts off her instructions with a furrow to her brow.

He snaps his fingers in her face. "Hello? I'm waiting for you to tell me more things I already know." He sing songs, like an asshole, but her gaze is fixed on the door.

"Who's that?" She asks, voice low. There's not many customers that Gina doesn't know by name, the bar is in a pretty small town and almost everyone who comes in is a regular. He just assumes it's a new customer, and turns around to see for himself, then immediately dives under the counter.

"Blake? What the fuck!" Gina whispers, hands on her hips.

"Stop looking at me!" He hisses, curling even more into a ball.

Gina glares at him, then looks up and smiles. "Hello, what can I get for you?" She says, prettily.

"Vodka." Her voice is lower than he remembers, and she cut her hair, it barely brushes her jaw now.

But she's still Clarke, and she's here and his heart is pounding so hard he's sure she'll hear it and give away his hiding place. He hasn't thought about her in a long time, hasn't been able to because it hurt too much. It's overwhelming to go from not thinking about her to seeing her, breathing and warm and different.

 _This_ is why he doesn't do feelings anymore, he got screwed up enough the first time.

She doesn't stay for long, thank god, his legs were starting to cramp.

"Get up off my floor or so help me god." Gina says, then kicks him.

"Ow! Ok, ok! I'm getting up." He cautiously stands, glancing around the bar. When he sees that it's clear, he slouches against the counter.

"What the fuck was that?" She slaps his arm, and he's definitely afraid for his physical health.

"Ow! Can you stop hitting me?"

She crosses her arms. "Will it make you act less stupid?"

"Probably not." She hits him.

He glares. "Just an ex-girlfriend."

"But you haven't dated anyone in—"

"Shh!" He flaps his hands at her. "We don't need to announce to the whole bar how epically dull my game has been lately." 

"You're pathetic." She says, leaning against the counter as well.

"You're not the first one to tell me that." He agrees, and leans his head on her shoulder.

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

He shrugs. "Probably not."

\---

He doesn't tell his friends, mostly because they never heard of Clarke to begin with, so it'd just be awkward. But Octavia was pretty pissed at both he and Clarke for a while, and she got closure with him, but not with Clarke. He has a feeling she wouldn't be too happy to find out that she's back.

Gina's frustration has dissolved into giggles by the third time Clarke comes in, he slams his forehead against the counter when he plunges under it and he bites his lip so hard he draws blood. Gina finds it _hilarious_.

"Why do we always laugh at my pain?" He grumbles, rising from the floor and rubbing his forehead.

"Because it's always hilarious."

He mock laughs and starts to angrily pour drinks.

"Why can't you just talk to her?" She asks, voice low.

He doesn't know if he can tell her, they've decided to stay friends and he trusts her. But it's kind of humiliating that he's holding a grudge against a girl he dated five years ago.

He rubs the back of his neck. "It was a really bad break up."

Her gaze narrows. "So bad that you can't even look at her five years later? Bellamy. Come on."

He sighs, clearly she's not going to just let this go. Stupid friends and their stupid need to look after him, how dare they.

He pulls her to the back of the bar, no one is in need of their immediate attention anyway, and tells her to sit.

"Wow, are we gonna talk about feelings? Do I need to braid your hair? This is new territory for me I don't know what to do."

"Mock me again and I'm never telling you this story."

She mimics locking her lips and throwing away the key, which he will accept. He sits on a beer crate and puts his head in his hands.

"We were friends for a long time before we ever dated, we fought almost constantly. But it was fun, like I never thought I cared that much about how Pocahontas 2 fucking sucked, but when she told me she loved it I felt the need to tell her every reason about why she was wrong."

She laughs. "It doesn't sound that different from you now."

He groans. "Shut up, I know. _Anyway_ , fighting was mostly my fault because I had this goddamn crush on her that I was too immature to deal with the proper way, but then she told me she felt the same, not in so many words, but she did. And we started dating.

"It was really good for a while, we graduated and I honestly though we were going to get married. But then she told me she was going back to med-school and I kind of lost it." She looks like she's about to say something so he hurries on. "She never wanted to go to med-school, but her mom was a dick and was forcing her to. And I told Clarke that, among other things, and she didn't like it. So she left and I haven't seen or talked to her since." He loosens a breath and leans his head against the wall.

"She's why you don't date?" Gina asks after a few minutes of silence.

"Not that I like to admit it, but, yeah."

She cocks her head. "Pathetic seems really redundant, but it's honestly the best word to describe you."

He pretends to have got hit in the chest, "That hurts. It really does."

And then he ruffles her hair and leaves to help make people drunk.

\---

He wakes up to a brick hitting his face. No wait, it's Octavia with a pillow.

"What the fuck!" He tries to yell, but it comes out a little strangled.

"Clarke is back and you didn't tell me!" She whacks him with the pillow again. It hurts, how does she manage to make a pillow hurt. Who raised this beast.

He tries to yank the pillow away. "Stop hitting me!"

She yanks back. "Stop being an idiot!"

He snorts, "That's been going on for years, it's not gonna change anytime soon."

She lets the pillow go and flops onto her back. "How are you so calm about this?"

He lies down too. "Because I am a mature adult who can handle uncomfortable situations with grace and care."

"How's your forehead?"

"Kind of bruised."

"Yep, grace and care."

\---

It's not fair that Clarke starts coming to the library, it's his safe place, a place where he can really let his freak shine. He is not going to let that go.

Miller takes pity on him and let's him hide behind the check out counter.

"Clarke has had you whipped since you came out of the womb."

Bellamy pinches his leg in protest.  
"I don't want to do the talk." He whispers.

"What?"

"You know, the after break up talk. You pretend to want to know how they're doing and if they're dating anyone. Even though you couldn't give two horse shits about who they're banging. I don't want to do that with her." He buries his head in his book then, because he doesn't want to talk about it with Miller either.

"She really messed you up, huh?" He actually sounds concerned, which is a new level in their friendship and Bellamy doesn't feel it's time for that yet.

So he says, "Now you can stop telling people I was dropped when I was a kid." instead. Sarcasm is always the safe way to go. Miller snorts and kicks him, and they don't talk about it again.

\---

Lexa starts working at the bar a week after she moves to town, and Bellamy actually kind of likes her.

"Are you gay?" She asks one day while they're on break, she's never exactly subtle.

He swallows. "Pan. Why?"

She shrugs. "Just because a straight guy could never be this—"

"Cool? Dashing? Charming?"

"Un-attracted to me." But she doesn't sound upset about it.

"Well you're a lesbian. It'd just be awkward if I was into you."

"Cheers to that."

He had been fully prepared to confess his feeble story of woe to Lexa, considering she would definitely punch him after she saw him hiding under the counter. What he is not prepared for is her to shriek a muffled "Fuck!" and join him under the counter.

"Why are you hiding?" He whispers, scrunching his legs underneath him for more room. The counter was not made for one person to be under it, let alone two.

"My ex just came in." She says, like it's obvious.

"Hold on. Your ex?" She nods.

"Blonde hair? Sarcastic? Incredible boobs?"

Lexa nods again. "Um, yeah. How did you know that?"

He puts his head in his hands, a gesture that is becoming an unfortunate habit.

"Holy fuck."

"Blake."

"She's my ex, too." He says, and groans. Why can't anything in his life stay uncomplicated? Does the universe just hate him that much?

"Nice." Lexa says, and puts up a hand to high five him. She doesn't know how to deal with emotions either.

"Yeah, it's bloody fantastic."

\---

Lexa tells him about her and Clarke over take out, because they're classy.

"We dated in med-school, it was good. But I was still hung up on my ex, Costia, a fucking babe, by the way. And when we broke up Clarke told me that she was hung up on hers too. It wasn't a terrible break up, pretty mature actually, but I don't want to have the after break up talk." She scoops some noodles into her mouth.

"Exactly! I hate that talk." He says, and then furrows his brow. "Wait, wouldn't you have seen her in school still? You haven't already had that talk?" If she managed to avoid her for a whole year he's going to be impressed.

But she shakes her head. "No, no. Clarke dropped out of school like, a month after we broke up. I dropped out too, actually."

He chokes on his won ton. "What?"

"Yeah, when we were dating she was always so insecure about being a doctor. Like yeah she wanted to help people but, she never thought it was right for her." She shrugs again.

It's a lot to process, the fact that his words stuck with her all that time. And the fact that he could have been the ex she was hung up on, his brain might start smoking soon.

"Blake? Are you gonna faint? It's a bad time because I really didn't pay attention in those first aid courses."

He nods. "I, uh, yeah. I'm fine."

He's fucking screwed is what he is.

\---

The thing is, he was never really mad at Clarke, even though he really wanted to be. He was upset that she started something with him when she knew she would be leaving, but he never blamed her or resented her.

Miller was right about one thing, he is fucking whipped.

It's not hard to sit down next to her at the library and tell her that her taste in books suck. Go big or go home.

She looks like she's about to clock him, but then her face lights up and his heart stutters a little.

"Bellamy? Uh, hi. How are you?" She puts down her book, art history, and turns to face him.

"I'm good. How are you? How was med-school?" He figures it's good to pretend he didn't pump her ex for information, even if she was willing.

Clarke opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding something. "It was good. I enjoyed it."

He doesn't flinch, if she doesn't want him to know that he was right, fine. That's her deal. "I'm glad. I just wanted to say hi, enjoy your book."

He moves to get up but she grabs his wrist. "Bellamy I—" She cuts herself off, shaking her head. "Uh, never mind. Thanks for saying hi."

He nods. "No problem."

She lets him go this time, and disappointment curls in his gut.

\---

Lexa still hides under the bar, which now he gets to make fun of and he totally sees the appeal.

"I don't like you." She says, and then knocks her head while standing up.

"Sure you do, you just can't handle emotions like I, a proper adult, can."

She shoves him. "I'm a proper adult."

He snorts. "Uh huh." And then pets her hair as an apology.

\---

"I don't want to."

"But you're going to anyway."

"No."

"Octavia Marie Blake."  
"Don't use my name as a weapon, Bellamy _Bradbury_."

"You first."

"I'm not going to her party."

He lets out a frustrated groan and fists his hair, his sister is infuriating. Not that he really blames her, he thought about turning down Clarkes invitation at first too. The awkward level would be level one thousand, but she was making peace. And he'd be a dick to just say no.

"Octavia, please. You can even bring Lincoln!" He was seriously desperate. Lexa had already laughed in his face when he asked her, which he knew was going to happen, but he wasn't shutting out any options.

He had run into Clarke at the grocery store, and she'd mentioned the party she was throwing at her house and then invited him and whoever he wanted to bring.

Except anyone he wanted to bring didn't want to go. Why was he friends with such dicks, anyway.

"I'm not going, and if you know what's good for Clarke's health, you won't try and make me."

"Fine. I'll ask Miller." He pouts.

Miller agrees to go only because there will be booze, and he brings Monty, who brings Jasper, who brings pot. Bellamy isn't sure he wants to go anymore himself.

But then Clarke opens the door, already drunk, flings herself into his arms and then drags him into her house.

"Good luck!" Jasper calls after him.

It's crowded, sweaty bodies are grinding against each other in the living room to some modern age hipster tunes.

He hopes Clarke doesn't want to do that, or go anywhere near it.

She hands him a solo cup and grins as he cringes at the first taste.

"What the fuck is that?" He coughs.

Her grins widens. "A party in your mouth."

"Can I be uninvited to it?"  
"Unfortunately, no."

She then takes his hand and drags him to where a few people are playing spin the bottle.

Fantastic.

She plops down and tugs his hand until he does too, he wants it on he record that he didn't want to come to this party.

"Who's this?" A dark skinned girl with a pony tail asks, eyeing him enough to make him squirm.

"Bellamy." Clarke says.  
The girls raises her eyebrows and Clarke tells her to shut it.

"That's Raven, ignore her." Clarke slurs into his ear.

"Don't ignore me!" The girl—Raven—says. Clarke sticks out her tongue.

"Can we just play?" A shaggy haired dude says, that Bellamy is totally gonna ask if he wants to make out sometime. He learns that dude is Murphy, and he has the joy of dating Clarke's ex Finn.  
They kiss once, and Murphy tries to act like it was bad, until Bellamy crushes their mouths together again and leaves him breathless.

"Shut up, Murphy." He says, smirking, and then crawls back to his spot.

"You still got game, then?" Clarke asks.

He cocks his head. "Wouldn't you rather find that out for yourself?"

Her eyebrows shoot up and he stifles a laugh. "Are you offering?" She chokes out.

"Only if the bottle lands on you, I don't do handouts." He says, and she punches him. They both grin.

The bottle doesn't land on her though, and he tries not to act disappointed, he'd fucking love an excuse to kiss her.

She doesn't seem to notice that she didn't get to kiss him, and tugs him up.

"I want to show you something." She says in answer to his confused look.

It's a shitty idea, going to her room, he knows exactly what happened last time he went there. And there wasn't even alcohol then.

"Sit." She gently pushes him in the direction of her bed. He sits and watches as she rummages through her closet. She lets out a whoop when she finds what she's looking for, and comes sits beside him.

She shoves a painting into his hands and begins to talk.

"I lied, at the library. I didn't finish med-school, but I didn't want you to rub it in my face."

"I wouldn't have." He says, soft.

The painting is actually a portrait, of him. It's amazing, he's laughing and wearing his glasses that he used to hate while she loved them.

It's amazing, but he's not sure why Clarke is showing it to him.

"I know, but clearly I wasn't being rational. I just, I wanted you to know that I followed my dreams."  
He turns to look at her, but she doesn't meet his gaze. He places his hands over her fidgeting fingers, impulsively, and she looks up.

"When did you paint this?" He asks softly. She catches her lip between her teeth.

"A month ago."

"You didn't even know that I lived here until two weeks ago, how did you know I'd be around to give it to?"

They've gravitated towards each other on the bed, and somehow his hand found her thigh and now his thumb is idly stroking it.

"A little hope, I guess." Her voice is barely a whisper, just like the brush of her lips against his own. His hands move to her hair and tangle themselves in it, and her hands slip under his shirt, nails scraping against his stomach and back. He pulls back just enough so that they're still breathing the same air.

"Clarke, we really should talk—"

She quickly shakes her head. "I want you, right now. We can talk about feelings another time." She rises up onto her knees and pulls off her top.

"Clarke," His voice is strangled. "I can't do this again. I can't—I can't let myself get attached again." His hand moves from her hair to her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw.  
She needs to understand that he's still hurting, that he can't just throw himself into another relationship—

"Then no feelings ever, ok?"  
Her kiss is more needy this time, desperate, as if this is the last time.

The thought strikes him as absurd, because this can't be the last time he kisses Clarke Griffin, when he's holding back tears and wiping hers away. It can't be.

But it might be, so he wants to make the most of it. He slows down the kiss, melting into it. And then pushes her back onto the bed, and presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat before tugging off his own shirt.

Her hands glide along his back, mapping his skin. She fumbles with undoing his jeans and he helps, then slides her leggings off.  
He caresses the tattoo on her hip, a series of numbers, a date he assumes. He kisses it, then asks her what it's stands for.

She fists her fingers in his hair. "It's the date my dad died."

He opens his mouth, to say he's sorry, but she shushes him.

"No feelings, remember?"  
He's about to protest, but then she rubs her hips against him and basically every coherent thought jumps out of his brain.

"Right." It comes out short, and he surges up to kiss her. She moans into his mouth, which, _fuck_ , and then she unfairly rubs her hand against his front. (She's gotten even better with her hands, if that's even possible).

She arches her back and slides off her bra, and his mouth is immediately on her breasts. His lets his hands dance down her sides and slip into her underwear.

"Bellamy." She begs. He rubs her even slower, and she bucks her hips in a need for more friction.

"Slow down, we've got all the time in the world." He whispers.

She huffs, then flips them so she's on top. "Maybe, but I'm impatient." Then she grinds her hips into his and he slams his eyes shut with pleasure.

"Fuck. Ok, ok. Get on."

"What was that?" She pretends to not have heard him, as she nips at his stomach. He hauls her up for another kiss, "You heard me."

"I want to hear you say it again." Her fingers tease the waist line of his boxers and he groans in frustration.

"Get. On." He grits out, scrambling to push her underwear down.

"Now was that so—" her retort is cut off by her own moan as he pushes into her.

"Glad I know one way to shut you up." He teases, nuzzling her neck.

"Fuck, Bellamy." is her only response.

Their thrusts are slow, loving, even though they agreed to no feelings.

She comes twice with his fingers on her clit and the tiny gasps she makes are enough to do him in.

He stifles his roar when he comes, and she bucks her hips faster.

Panting, she rolls off him, grabbing the blanket to pull up over them and then snuggles into his side. He puts his arm around her and rubs his fingers up and down her arm.

"Clarke?"

"Hmm?"

  
"Are you happy?"

  
She pauses the doodle she was drawing on his stomach with her fingertips to look at him.

  
"Why do you ask?"

"Because I'd like to know."

"I'm not using you."

He pinches her side. "That wasn't my question."

"But I want you to know that."

He can't help but kiss her forehead. "I do. Now answer my question."

She grasps his hand and plays with his fingers. "Right now? I'm happy."

His smile is sad, but he pulls her closer anyway. "Good."

\---

It's a week after the party when she comes into the bar and asks when his break is.

"Anytime I want. Why?"

The grin she gives him is complete trouble as she pulls him into the bathroom and locks the door.

"I can't have sex hair!" He says, even though he lets her push him up against the counter.

"Are there any rules against sex hair?" She pops open the button on his pants and looks at him, as if daring him to stop her.

"No but—"

"No excuses, didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

He rolls his eyes, then grabs her and lifts her onto the counter.

"Fine, but I'm on top." He nips her ear.

She gropes his ass. "You'll hear no complaints about that from me."

Octavia points out the hickey Clarke left on his shoulder the next day.

"Since when are you getting laid?" She pokes the dark patch of skin and furrows her eyebrows.

"Why do you assume I'm getting laid? Maybe I ran into a door." He says, because denial is always the way to go.

"Dork." Octavia snorts.

"Thank you."

Lexa also points it out.  
"Since when are you a functioning human, capable of getting some?"

He hits her with his dish towel. "I've always functioned, I've just been terrible at it." He retorts.

"You're hilarious." She dead pans.

Maybe he should tell her, see if she's even over Clarke. It's the right thing to do.

Not that he and Clarke are together, sex is just sex, but maybe it'd be uncomfortable for Lexa.

"Hey, Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever get over Clarke?"

She guffaws. "Like, months ago. I do miss the sex though." She says thoughtful, and bites into a carrot.

"If I tell you something you promise not to hit me?"

"Well, I can't promise, but you can be optimistic if you want."

He inhales. "I'm having sex with Clarke." He says it fast, partly to just get it over with, and partly because he's hoping Lexa won't have heard and he can pretend to have said something else.

"What the fuck." She says, carrot dangling out of her mouth. So obviously she heard him.

"You just said you were over her—"

She smacks his chest. "Just because I am doesn't mean you are! Sleeping with her won't make your feelings go away!" She groans and pulls at her hair.

"There are no feelings!" He says, and stomps his foot.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" She crosses her arms.

"I shouldn't have to convince either of us! There are no feelings!"

She pats his shoulder before heading out the main part of the bar. "You keep telling yourself that, bud."

He barely keeps himself from telling her not to tell him what to do.

\---

"Do you know any neighborhoods that aren't too sketchy but are sketchy enough that they're cheap?" He asks Clarke, scrolling through craigslist.

"Don't you have an apartment?" She asks, looking over his shoulder.

It's become a habit to spend days off together, when she doesn't have any pressing paintings and he doesn't have a mountain of papers to grade. It's nice, and aggressively domestic.

He tries to not think about it.

"Yeah, but my lease is up next month. So I need to start looking for a new place." He leans into her fingers rubbing his scalp, and makes a sound of pleasure.

"You could just move in with me." She says it so casually it makes his heart stutter a little.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's a big house, and I could use a roommate who knows how to properly clean." She gets out from under the covers and swipes his empty mug from his hands.

"And it would make it easier to hook up." He says without thinking.

She turns to look at him, they haven't talked about it or addressed it.

She comes to him whenever she feels like it and he follows her to her bedroom. It's simple and fun.  
No need to ruin that with talking and fighting and plans for the future.

She fiddles with the coffee mug handle. "You're not wrong. Think about it and if you think you want to, we'll talk money." Then she walks out butt naked to the kitchen.

It's a terrible idea, and basically everyone tells him that, so clearly he has to do it.

"Bellamy, there's plenty of good places besides hers. Why are you being so stubborn?" Octavia flops onto his soon to be old bed, while he's packing.

"Why are you so against this? It's cheap, close to you and the rest of our friends, I don't see a better option." He rips a shirt from under her behind and throws it into his suitcase.

"But we could find one!"

He sighs. "Octavia, it's done. I'm moving in with her, platonically."

She throws her hands up. "I tried my best."

He pats her head. "That's all anyone can ever ask of you."

\---

Moving day goes smooth, most of his friends help, some more with yelling orders than others.  
Clarke fits in well, jabbing and joking around just like he knew she would. She and Miller hit it off again, and end up falling asleep on the couch together. Which he just has to take a picture of.

Living with Clarke is surprisingly normal, everyone is naked most of the time, which he has no complaints about.

Except, he wants to know that she doesn't want to see anyone else. He wants to know that he's the only one who gets to see her naked.

(Fuck, he wants her to be his.)

She doesn't bring home anyone, and when they go to the bar she doesn't leave with anyone but him.

He's being cautiously optimistic, because it was her idea to start sleeping together, and it's her idea for it to keep happening.

But then her best friend comes home and Bellamy becomes stupidly jealous.

"Wells and I are going to lunch, you wanna come?"

He sinks farther into the couch and declines her offer. She's going to notice that he's being weird at some point, but until then he's going to wallow in self pity and eat whipped cream straight from the can.

He's responsible, promise.

Rationally, he knows that being jealous is a waste of his time, Wells is a good guy and makes Clarke happy and by extension that makes Bellamy happy. But he can't help it.

Clarke always talks about him, and is constantly hanging out with him, it's starting to eat into their time together. Which frankly just pisses him off, she should at least divide the time she spends with each of them evenly, if she has to spend time with Wells.

He's _not_ bitter.

\---

"Do you wanna go to the movies?" She asks.

He looks up from the fridge and narrows his eyes."Why don't you ask Wells?" He grumbles, then slams the fridge door and stalks to the couch. She follows.

"What's up with you, lately?" She accuses, putting her hands on her hips. He chugs his orange juice before answering.

He wipes his mouth. "Nothing. I just think you're spending a lot of time with, _him_." He puts emphasis on the last word, like its personally offended him.

Clarke shakes her head and stands in front of him, he doesn't make eye contact.

"You're jealous. Seriously? Why didn't you tell me?" She's using her soft voice, the one she uses when she's trying not to scare him off.

He crosses his arms. "I was trying to be subtle about it."

She snorts and slides into his lap, giving him a long kiss.

He pulls away only a little dazed.  
She puts her forehead against his own and inhales. "You're the one who said you couldn't get attached again, Bell. That's the only reason I'm staying away."

She's off his lap again before he can even respond, and then she's saying bye and telling him to figure out his shit.

He calls Miller, even though he knows that he won't help.  
"Question. What would you do if the girl of your dreams told you that you were the reason you weren't together? Hypothetically, of course.

"You lost me at girl." Miller yawns.

"Sorry, guy of your dreams." He corrects, begrudgingly.

"I'd get my head out of my ass and be with them, what other answers are there?" He can hear some shuffling, then water running.

"Dude! Are you _peeing_? Gross!"

He can practically hear Miller roll his eyes. "This isn't the first or the last time you've heard me pee, grow some balls."

Bellamy shudders. "Thanks, you've been such a gigantic help."

Miller yawns again. "Never call me before noon again."

He's pacing by the time Clarke gets home, jitters basically eating him alive.

"Are you ok—?"

He starts talking before he can lose his nerve. "I want the feelings. I said I couldn't get attached again but the truth is I never wasn't attached, I haven't dated in five years because I've been too afraid to mess it up like I did with you. And I'm sorry I made such a big deal about you leaving and I'm sorry for being a dick in general. And I know you said that I was the only thing keeping you away but it's ok if you've changed your mind and you decided that you can't be with a train wreck. And while we're being honest, you fucking ruined sex with any other person for me and the movie Spirit. Also, I'm in love with you." He lets out the breath he had been holding and risks stealing a glance at her face.

And fuck, he's glad he did.

She wipes a tear dusting her eyelashes and grins. "I don't have a speech or anything, but um, I love you too. And I can concur with the movie and sex ruining thing."

He lets out a breath and closes the distance between them, crushing their mouths together.

She drops the bags she'd been holding and curls her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He presses her against the door and starts to undress her.

"I hope my roommate doesn't mind us having sex against the door." She shrieks as he hoists her up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He grins. "I'm sure he'll deal with it."

—————

 _So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover_  
_That I know you can't afford_  
_Bite that tattoo on your shoulder_  
_Pull the sheets right off the corner_  
_Of the mattress that you stole_  



End file.
